Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Malaysia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Kenny Larkin to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by X-101. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skarface,
Kerrie Biddell,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Slits,
H. Thieme,
Television,
Audionom,
Roxette,
Idris Muhammad,
Crash Course in Science,
Black Pus,
Chrome,
Eve St. Jones,
Mo-Dettes,
Scratch Acid,
Minutemen,
Aural Exciters,
Sun City Girls,
Delta 5,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Harry Pussy,
Maleditus Sound,
The Litter,
Gerry Rafferty,
Iggy Pop,
Joy Division,
Alice Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Heaven 17,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bob Dylan,
La Düsseldorf,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Toasters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
World's Most,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Quando Quango,
Bad Manners,
Amon Düül II,
The Last Poets,
Main Source,
U.S. Maple,
Eric B and Rakim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lalann,
Scan 7,
Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bootsy Collins,
The Moleskins,
Barrington Levy,
D'Angelo,
EPMD,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Slackers,
MC5,
Ohio Players,
Bauhaus,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.